


The Rogue Whaler

by Svart_Jade



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Corvo is a little Shit, How does Daud tell Whalers apart?, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Multi, Thomas doesn't get paid enough for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svart_Jade/pseuds/Svart_Jade
Summary: He was going to kill Piero.The lens in his mask whirled and hissed, leaving him blind in one eye and with focused vision in the other as he balanced high above the hallway. Frantic twisting and tapping did nothing, leaving him pulling the mask off with a soft curse under his breath.And it wasn't as if he could walk around with his bared face as the most wanted man in the Empire.Hopefully the Whaling outfit folded carefully in the storage box came in his size.





	1. A Chance Outfit

**Author's Note:**

> The last thing Campbell knew was an assassin’s blade and the thought that Daud's heretics had come for him.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Inspired by a post by ninokied on tumblr.

Corvo made it as far as a light fixture in the upper halls of the Office of the High Overseer before things went wrong. By this point in his life, Corvo understood that anything that could go wrong, would go wrong, and in the most spectacular fashion possible. Like how coming home to his love and child ended in Jessamine dead, Emily kidnapped and Corvo being imprisoned for six months on false charges by someone they had all trusted. But some part of him hoped that at least for tonight, his broken luck would have held long enough for him to get in and get out. But of course, when had things ever gone his way without Corvo having to work for it? 

The lens in his mask whirled and hissed, leaving him blind in one eye and with focused vision in the other as he balanced high above the hallway. Frantic twisting and tapping did nothing, leaving him pulling the mask off with a soft curse under his breath. He stared down at it in vague annoyance and wondered exactly how much testing Piero had done before handing it over to him. Seeing as Corvo distinctly remembered the mask being finished just as he had entered Piero’s workshop for the first time, he was going to go with  _ none.  _

He didn't plan on being seen but he had learnt long ago that things never went according to plan, tonight being a shining example. If Burrows found out that Corvo Attano was seen in Holger's Square at the same time Campbell's little black book of secrets went missing, Emily would  undoubtedly be moved so he had to find someway to cover his face and soon.

For a moment, Corvo considered knocking out an Overseer and stealing both their clothes and mask. As long as he hid the body well and made sure they wouldn't wake up for a good hour or so, the deception wouldn't be noticed. However, as amusing as the thought of a heretic running around dressed as an Overseer was, he didn’t trust the peripheral vision of those masks. 

Shifting carefully as to not fall off the chandelier, Corvo glanced down around the hallway for a place to gather his thoughts where he wouldn’t be spotted by the first person to glance up. Eyes falling on a doorway and pausing to let a patrolling Overseer passing below him reach the end of the corridor, Corvo blinked to the ground and ducked along the frame. After a quick flash of dark vision showed the room to be empty, he quietly slipped through the door and closed it with a gentle click, only to regret it the moment he realised what it contained. 

A metal chair with restraints attached sat bolted to the floor with a wall of bars separating it from the rest of the room. A hook hung from the ceiling by chains, while blood lay dried on the floor, the scent of copper and bile hanging heavy in the air. A small, slightly hysterical part of him was grateful that they had at least put away the rest of the torture instruments. He didn’t think he could handle looking at them, even if they weren’t the same that had been used on him. Just the thought of them made his barely healed injuries ache, weeping sores and bubbling burns. 

Eager to shift his thoughts before he threw him in the corner of the room, Corvo turned his attention away from the chair and to the other set of bars that separated a raised room from this one. There was a gap between where the bars ended at the room, a gap he could easily fit through. Corvo blinked up and over, desperate to get away from the chair and the memories attached. He landed gently and turned to the storage box, wanting to find and take anything of note so that once he left the room, there would be no reason for him to return.

He had expected to find elixirs or ammo, common things to be kept in storage, not one of the masks that had haunted his dreams for the past six months. The industrial whaling mask sat innocently a top a pile of clothes like it didn’t represent everything that had gone wrong with his life, glass eyes shining in the dull light. 

Ignoring the pain curling in his chest, Corvo took stock of the form fitting grey leather coat, long sleeved shirt and high collared white vest lying beneath the mask. High black boots strapped with brown buckles and a wide leather belt were tucked next to the pile. On top were heavy black gloves with a note pinned to them. 

_ There was _ _ a pin hidden in one of the gloves, used to  _ _ administer  _ _ poison. Be cautious when handling, as traces of the poison may remain.  _

Pulling away from the storage box and scanning the area for anything that might reveal why clothes belonging to one of the assassins was inside the Office of the High Overseer, Corvo considered if he really wanted to waste time on this mystery before deciding that this was nag him if he didn’t find out why. His eyes finally rested on an audiograph player with a card slotted into it sitting on a table in the corner. 

Dark vision showed no one near as he crossed the room, but his hand still hesitated over the audiograph’s switch. They had made recordings of his own torture more than once and he had no interest in reliving them in the screams of another man, even if that man was an assassin. Curiosity won out in the end, though his hand stayed on the audiograph’s switch, ready to turn off the recording at a moments notice. 

_ “What we have is a man, aged thirty perhaps, slender. Unusual tattooing on the face and chest. Probably superstitious heresy. Wearing some sort of industrial mask when we brought him in, stolen out of one of the whaling factories from the look of it. You’re one of Daud's men, aren’t you? Caught at last. Give us a name, at least. What’s wrong with his eyes? Opium? Laudanum? Are you with us? What’s he doing? Some kind of fit!? He’s gone. Here it is; a pin, hidden in one of his gloves. Subject has administered some kind of poison. The effects seem to have been lethal.” _

Corvo’s mind raced as the recording stuttered to a stop. 

_ You’re one of Daud's men, aren’t you? _

Daud. 

To finally be able to put a name to the red-coated assassin that had run through Jessamine and stolen away their Emily. It was a harshly spoken name, splashed across wanted posters dotting the city and, occasionally, on the reports that crossed his desk in the tower. The man had a blood-soaked history, what was one more name to add to his list of the dead, even if it was the name of an Empress. 

The abilities of the men he had faced now made more sense, if they served Daud. Honestly, he probably should have realised who they were earlier, considering how distinct those masks were... Corvo’s thought process trailed off as he glanced back at the pile of clothes below the whaler’s mask, eyeing them with a new consideration.

He had honestly been surprised when the Loyalists had given him back his Royal Protector coat. As comforting as it was to have it back, the coat was quite  distinctive and probably didn’t help conceal his identity.  However, if he was seen in the assassin’s gear, the blame would be laid squarely on Daud, not a mysterious figure in a skull mask that the guard would most likely start hunting for. The fact that it would at least cause even the smallest amount of trouble for Daud was just an added bonus. 

Having reached a decision, he checked with dark vision once more to make sure no Overseer would walk in while he was undressing and start what would probably be the most awkward fight in his history, Corvo began to strip out of his clothes. The royal protector coat he folded carefully while the rest were dumped in a hazardous pile on the table. The whaler’s clothes were indeed tailored for a slender man and before Coldridge they wouldn’t have fit him. Even now, the shirt and vest were a tight fit across his shoulders. The coat was looser thankfully, and the hood a trick to figure out until he found the buttons inside the jacket’s collar. The mask went on last, the air gaining a  rubbery, chalky smell. 

Corvo hesitated when he reached the gloves, the warning pinned to them and the events of the recording still firmly in his mind. He had no wish to share the whaler’s fate and no way to discern if the pin was still in there or if there was anymore. No, better to leave them behind and not risk poisoning himself. 

He glanced back at where his coat was folded neatly on the table. His clothes could be tucked away in the storage box along with his boots and the whalers gloves but there was no way he could leave the coat behind and carrying it with him wasn’t an option. 

Slipping out of the interrogation room as quietly as he entered it, Corvo decided to just leave his coat on the ledge outside and pick it up on his way out of the building. Blinking back up to a light fixture to avoid an Overseer’s patrol, Corvo considered his options. 

He had heard Overseers in the courtyard speaking of a Heretic’s Brand. It seemed anyone branded would be cast out of the order, a very tempting alternative to just running Campbell through. There would be a delicious irony in having Campbell stripped of his post and status, thrown out into the street in disgrace. However, he didn’t trust that the Overseers wouldn’t ask questions about who branded Campbell and why. Despite finding no pleasure in killing, there were too many chances for things to go wrong. Better to just slit Campbell’s throat and be done with it. 

Mind set on his new course of action, Corvo carefully blinked from light fixture to light fixture, then across a pair of conveniently placed pipes that led all the way to Campbell’s office. The room was empty as Corvo crept in, though he could hear the low murmur from the other side of the opposite door as well as the sound of approaching footsteps. Corvo’s head snapped up as he heard Campbell fumbling with his keys and, pausing only to grab the rune over the crackling fireplace, he slipped behind the folding screen just in time for Campbell to lead Captain Curnow in. 

It was only when Campbell offered Curnow a drink and the Guard Captain accepted that it occured to Corvo that the wine was probably poisoned. His crossbow had already been loaded with a sleep dart and before he could second guess himself, Corvo aimed and let the dart fly. Curnow stumbled then slowly collapsed in a heap on the floor, the glass tumbling from his now limp hand. 

Campbell stared in stunned disbelief at the unconscious captain before the sight seemed to sink in. He pulled out his saber and roared “What is the meaning of this?  _ Guards! _ !” 

Time seemed to slow for Corvo as the blade in his hand unfurled and the mark on his hand tugged him forward. He landed in front of Campbell, close enough to see his eyes widen in horror as Corvo’s blade slipped up and in between his ribs, aimed straight for the heart. The sound of pounding feet meant nothing to Corvo as he bent to grab the unconscious Curnow off the floor, his escape route already planned out. Overseers and guardsmen alike streamed through the door behind him and he reached, then blinked out the open window across the room, cries of ‘ _ assassin! _ ’ and ‘ _ heretic! _ ’ echoing behind him. 


	2. Of Cats and Whalers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rattle of blood stained gold against the cold stone and the bite of a colder blade.

Corvo didn’t even try to fight the laughter that came bubbling out of his throat at the sight of the wanted poster pasted to the wall of the filthy alley he was hiding in, perched up on a rusted pipe out of the way. The poster was already a grimey off yellow despite being less than a day old yet Corvo had to fight the urge to tear it from the wall to keep and hang in his little attic above the Pub. 

** _WANTED_ **

** _FOR THE MURDER OF _ **

** _HIGH OVERSEER THADDEUS CAMPBELL_ **

** _As well as Crimes of Heresy_ **

**DAUD**

**Reward of 5,000 Coins** **  
** **For Capture or Death**

Due to his original mask still being in a state of disrepair despite Piero’s promises, Corvo still wore the whalers clothes he had stolen from Holger’s Square. He had originally planned on ditching them for whatever castoffs he could find but the sight of the wanted poster now put him in a frame of mind to let himself be seen and have the Pendletons’ death pinned on Daud as well. Why put the guards on edge looking for another masked menace when they can focus on one that already exists?

A rough voice calling “Oi, did you hear that? _Hey, is anybody down there?!_” broke Corvo’s musing. Not in the mood to deal with whoever was coming, and with one last mirthful gaze at the wanted poster, Corvo blinked up to the pipes screwed to the wall then across to the balcony above him_. _Upon reaching his destination however, he almost fell back down to the alleyway in shock. Though to be fair**, **the whaler crouched in front of him seemed just as surprised to see him as Corvo was to see them. 

The distortion of their mask didn’t do anything to hide the curiosity lacing their tone as the whaler stood and leant past Corvo to peer down into the street, one hand tightening around the hilt of their sword. _“_What are you doing up here? Did something happen?” 

Mind reeling, off balance by the  _ assassin  _ so easily standing in front of him and seemingly waiting for an answer, Corvo ducked forward and caught the whaler around the neck to drag them backward away from the edge as he choked them. They flailed, rubber gloves scratching at his arms, but it didn't take him long to choke them out into unconsciousness. 

Laying them gently down onto the floor, the back of his neck itched as if there was someone else watching them. A flash of dark vision showed a second whaler on the other side of the alley, face gazing in their direction but body relaxed as if they haven’t noticed their missing partner yet. A carefully aimed blink put Corvo behind them, watching his feet as he crept closer to drag them down as well. 

The second Whaler didn’t fare much better against the strength of Corvo’s arms, going down with a muffled whimper, and soon he was lifting them over his shoulders before they could fall to the ground, eyeing the plague corpses wrapped in the corner. A quick blink took him back to the other balcony and he dropped the whaler beside the first one. Where the fuck were they all coming from?

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye made Corvo groan, arming his crossbow as he turned in time to watch a third whaler stalk along the rooftop above where the merchant Griff was smoking. Quietly, as not to alert Griff to their presence, Corvo loaded and shot a sleep dart into the whaler’s arm. He winced at the thump they made as they hit the roof but made no move to retrieve them, instead staring silently as the pair of assassins lying helpless at his feet. 

He had made it a rule to spare guards whenever possible, men he understood were only doing their duty to the crown. But these men, they were paid killers loyal to the man who had killed his Empress and kidnapped their child. They were murderers, assassins…  _ unconscious.  _ The Heart, tucked carefully in his coat over his own chest, beat in time with his, Jessamine’s voice but a whisper in his ears.  _ ‘Daud's men. Secrets so well kept - even I cannot discern the truth.’  _ No, what help was that? Corvo’s eyes burned, knuckles clenched white around the hilt of his blade as he stared down at the unconscious bodies. Would he leave them alive to tear more families apart? His foot inched forward, blade snapping out with a quiet hiss as he drowned in memories of a blood stained pavilion. Jessamine- ‘ _ When others might choose to draw blood, you find another way. This, I think, is my highest praise.’  _ Jessamine wouldn’t want this. 

Cheeks wet and heart heavy with grief, Corvo almost threw himself out of the window in his haste to leave the men to sleep where he had stashed them. Dropping down onto the pipes then across to the roof where the third whaler was snoring, Corvo crept across to another set of pipes as not to wake them and followed it around the building. The Wall of Light presented a problem but some careful aim with his blink landed him in the room above, avoiding it altogether. 

Corvo wasn’t pleased to see the watchtower either, though it was simple enough to disable with a well timed blink and the removal of the whale oil tank. A ruined house by the corner beckoned him with a whale’s song,The Heart drumming against his ribs. But this was neither the time or the place to deal with it’s magic just yet, so the rune Corvo swept off the table was tucked away for later use. 

The entrance to the Golden Cat was poorly guarded, the guard on the third floor balcony almost asleep at his post. A frown tugged at Corvo’s eyes as he dragged the man down to the ground, knocking him out with a vicious punch. The man was meant to be protecting two members of Parliament and this was how he acted? Just because it made his job easier didn’t mean he couldn’t disapprove. 

Slipping in through an open window, Corvo froze at the sound of the voices right below where he perched on the ledge, barely breathing as to not give away his position. “The Pendletons are here again. I need to get the men into position.” 

“Lord Morgan is down in the Steam Room with Loulia and Lord Curtis is in the Gold Room with Voiletta upstairs.” A quick glance down confirmed that the voices belonged to a guard and what could only be the Madame of the House, since he doubted any of the courtesans would be dressed so  garish.  A gap in the decor let him creep above the next room and drop down behind the Madame as she left the guard behind and moved to unlock a door. Her rather sharp nails clawed at his sleeves as he strangled her, letting her unconscious body drop to the floor shamelessly to ruffle through the papers on her desk. 

__ Lord Curtis Pendleton, with Voiletta in the Gold Room, third floor.   
_ Mister Bunting, with Betty in the Silver Room, second floor.  _ _   
_ __ Lord Morgan Pendleton, with Loulia in the Steam Room, downstairs. 

A guest ledger confirmed the locations of his targets but it was a hastily written note left lying on a side table that gave him the information he sought. Rage curling through his veins, edged with pride, as he took how they had kept his daughter yet she still struggled to escape and defy them. 

_ I know we're running low on beds, but I must have a room for the child. She's more important than you can guess, and recently she almost got away, using the VIP entrance. That's why I decided to keep the master key in my possession. This girl must be cared for, even if she's a brat, and I want her kept in a room to herself. _

_ ~ Madame Prudence  _

Corvo turned and unhooked the key off the Madame’s belt and tucked it into his. Emily first, he could come back for the Pendletons once he was sure she was safe. Leaving  Prudence were she had fallen, Corvo padded up the staircase until he reached the top floor. He paused, waited for the courtesan to put her back to the open door to shoot her with a sleep dart, then slipped past to reach the room holding Emily. 

Emily's head snapped upright at the sound of the door, dark hair whipping around her face. “Who-” she began, her voice hesitant before fear stole the colour from her face and the voice from her throat. It took her scream of “No! No, get away from me!” for the knowledge of exactly whose mask she was seeing hit him.

Dropping to his knees, Corvo tore at the straps holding the whaler's mask to his face and threw it to the ground carelessly, his voice torn from his throat in a low rasp, desperate to reassure and stricken with pain. “Emily, Emily, it’s me, it’s Corvo."

Emily took a hesitant step towards him, her voice smaller than he had ever heard it. “Corvo…? Why are you wearing that? You’re… not apart of the group who killed mother, …are you?”

If someone had asked him at that moment, he would have sworn under oath that 6 months of torture in Coldridge had hurt less than that question. If he had known that this disguise would have led to this, he would have happily thrown the lot out the window and rescued her in his underclothes. 

Corvo swallowed his pain and offered his hand out, praying the he hadn't ruined everything.“It’s just a disguise, I swear. So people wouldn't know it was me doing these things. Please, Emily.” 

His voice cracked on the last word but Emily seemed to accept his excuse and barreled towards him, small arms tangling around his neck as she buried her face into his chest. “They told me you were gone, head chopped off in prison, dead like mother."

Corvo buried his face in her hair, soothed by the knowledge that his daughter was now safe in his arms and  _ no one  _ would ever take her from him again. "I'm here, I'm here and I'll never leave you again.” She nodded slightly and let him press one last kiss to the top of her head before she pulled away reluctantly. 

Corvo stood and hooked the whaler’s mask to his belt before he let Emily lead him down to the exit she knew of. He shot her a silent order to stay behind him as Corvo unlocked the VIP door and scanned the area behind it. The room itself was empty and the pathway lead out to the street boarded up. Content that it was a safe enough place for Emily to wait while he dealt with the Pendletons, Corvo turned back to Emily and knelt down to look her in the eyes, raising a hand to gently brush back a stray lock. “Wait here. If anything happens, run back into the building screaming.”

Emily nodded and wrapped both arms around his waist, giving him a brief squeeze then a light push back towards the staircase. “Don’t worry about me, Corvo. I’ll be fine.” 

Corvo mock frowned down at the girl in front of him but took another few steps backwards at her urging. “Emily, it is quite literally my job to worry about you.” She just beamed back unrepentant and waved him on. 

Corvo waited for Emily to crack open the door and slip through before reattaching the whaler mask. He turned and crept up the staircase until he reached the second floor where Courtesans flirted with patrons while guards made their rounds. At there, across the room, was a staircase leading down to the Steam Room. 

A very helpful ring of decorative metal hung from the ceiling which gave him a nice platform to blink up to. As soon as no eyes were on the entrance, Corvo dropped down and crept down the stairs to where a pair of guards chatted with each other as they waited on Lord Pendleton. Not willing to risk one of the guards turning around while he was choking the other out, Corvo simply shot them both in the leg with a sleep dart and let them crash to the ground. 

Ignoring Morgan’s nasally call of “What are you two buffoons doing out there?”, Corvo calmly unlocked the door with the Madame’s master key, kicked the door open and unloaded another sleep dart into Loulia’s back. At any other point in time, Morgan’s high pitched screams of  _ “Guards! Guards!” _ would have been annoying, but with Morgan’s guards sleeping soundly thanks to his darts, Corvo just found it pitiful. 

"You're one of Daud's men, aren't you? You cannot be thinking of harming me. I'm Lord Morgan Pendleton!" Morgan’s words stumbled across each other as he switched to bribery when his threats just rolled off Corvo. "I'm a rich man! Whatever you've been paid, I can double it! Triple it!" It finally seemed to sink in that Corvo had no plans of sparing him as he rolled his shoulders and flicked out his blade, causing Morgan to lunge for his own.  Unfortunately for him, his executioner  was one of the fastest swordsmen in the empire and Corvo’s sword sunk smooth and deep into Morgan’s stomach before Morgan’s hand even touched the hilt of his blade. 

Corvo’s gaze was flat as he turned on his heel and left the nobleman to die in a pool of his own blood. This wasn’t something he took pleasure in. But blood called for blood and he would see Jessamine’s death repaid. Thankfully, the noise from upstairs had covered any echoes of Morgan’s screams with no guards being the wiser. A blink to a higher balcony and a few well aimed sleep darts took care of the few guards doing their jobs, leaving the door to the Gold Room undefended. 

Corvo dropped gently to the ground, mouth set in a firm line. Aware that any loud noises would attract the attention of the guards on the floor below, Corvo pushed the door open with a gentle click, darting behind a painted screen. The Void swept through him as he let the sleep dart fly, shoving his blade up to the hilt in Curtis Pendleton’s neck. 

Unwilling to leave Emily alone for any long, Corvo left the bodies where they fell and let a few short blinks carry him back to the top of the staircase leading down to the VIP entrance. The staircase was empty as he followed it down to the door where he had left his daughter. The feathery voice of the old lady waiting in the next room did very little to sooth the icy fear that clutched Corvo’s heart when he found no trace of Emily where he had left her. “This is no place to leave a young lady. But don’t worry about the little dearie, she’s safe and sound with your nice boatman.”

The groans and cries of Weepers added to his stress as he thanked Granny Rags and moved past her. Old lady or not, if anything had happened to Emily while he was gone, he was coming back and mounting her head on a pike. Using the pipes and rocks to blink up and over the weepers, Corvo landed on the rooftop next to where he had left the pair of  unconscious whalers.The sight of yet another whaler waiting on the roof across the street, however, froze him in his tracks. 

Corvo carefully edged around the corner and studied the assassin perched on the opposite roof. Instead of the now familiar grey, the new Whaler wore a deep blue coat. A different rank, perhaps? There was no way he could cross the street without the assassin seeing him. His only hope was that his disguise would hold up against this whaler as well. Making sure his crossbow was within easy reach, the last sleep dart safely loaded, Corvo blinked across to the support beam and waited for the assassin to see him. 

It only took a moment for them to notice Corvo standing out in the open and appear in front of him in a cloud of ash. “Report. Are the others awake yet? What happened?” The thick gas mask did nothing to hide the air of command the other whaler carried or the way they studied Corvo, next words a more cautious drawl. “Where are your gloves?”

Oh fuck, the gloves. He still stood by his decision to leave the original Whalers gloves behind and there was no way he was going to put on those that belonged to the whalers he knocked out today, with their unused pin. That still didn’t help him as the assassin took a step towards him, staring at his hands. Unwilling to find out where this was going, Corvo drew up crossbow, aimed and fired his last sleep dart into the Whalers arm in a smooth motion. The assassin stumbled and tried to draw their sword before crashing to the tiles as the drug kicked in. 

Grumbling to himself over the price of sleep darts and assassins that seemed to breed like rabbits, Corvo unhooked his mask and attached it to his belt, heading back towards Samuel’s boat leaving the whaler behind him to sleep off the dart. Next time he saw them, he was going to fucking rob them of their coin. 


	3. Steel and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo's bridge is falling down.

_ ‘Citizens and visitors to our city: By order of the Regent, the curfew is now active!  _ _   
_ _ No foot traffic allowed across Kaldwin’s Bridge until curfew is lifted.’ _

The last rays of sunlight were warm against the back of Corvo’s neck, seeping through layers of cloth and leather as he padded across the stones, carefully laying the last unconscious guard down beside his fellows. His body stilled for a beat as the man grumbled and shifted before relaxing as the guard snorted and slipped back down into sleep. The sleep darts were useful beyond measure for knocking people out but he still wasn’t completely sure how long they lasted and Peiro had yet to give him a straight answer. 

The speaker above him crackled and whined, static pooling before looping and repeating it’s infernal message. Cocking his head for any footsteps he might had missed beneath the noise, Corvo cracked open a door leading up before slipping inside. It was hard to tell if the added guards were here to protect Sokolov and the merchant homes lining the streets leading to the bridge or it they were there to defend against the plague. Though to be fair, they could be here for both but that seemed a bit beyond the brain power of the men Burrows was now hiring to fill the ranks. 

The stairs led up to a shift change room, lockers lining one wall and shelves on the other, filled with little odds and ends. Corvo checked the door first, quietly testing the lock before turning his attention to the lockers for anything to pocket. Most are empty except for a spare case of bullets, tins of potted whale meat and a damp set of leather boots left out to dry. Nothing that held much interest for him. The shelves were full of books, manuals for cleaning guns and a rather battered copy of Daughter of Tyvia. 

Shaking his head ruefully because even a coup couldn’t change the habits of guards, Corvo followed the staircase leading upwards to a loading bay. The desk to the side held nothing of interest except for a few notes on the supplies that had been distributed, a uncorked vial of Piero's Spiritual Remedy that Corvo left alone and a key that Corvo did pocket. He may not need it now but one never knew when a key could be useful later on. 

Turning to circle the cart, Corvo studied the tracks that led out across above the street. The whale oil receptacle sat empty but that could be easily fixed.  The question was how was he going to get across. The gate wouldn’t open without power but that would send a current along the tracks, almost certainly lethal if he tried to cross by foot. But was it far enough to blink across? Peering along the tracks, Corvo made a rough guess before taking the stairs up to where the whale oil was so hazardously stored. Carefully selecting one, he dropped down off the edge to land besides the cart. The tank slid in where it belonged, the gate opening with a rusty creak. 

His bones curled at the distance, blood feeling like it was almost flowing backwards as Corvo pushed through the space between. His feet stumbled against the metal platform, hand clutching at the railing to hold himself up as his muscles shook beneath him.  _ Too far, he had blinked too far.  _ His fingers fumbled for the inside of his coat, reaching for the Spiritual Remedy already tucked into his coat pocket. It tasted like poppies soaked in river water but it made his organs stop curling so Corvo swallowed it down with a grimace.

The street below was empty when he dropped down over the edge of the railing, slipping behind the back of the guards to crack open the door leading further along the bridge. As soon as the door clicked gently shut behind him, the heart in his pocket began to slowly beat against the fabric of his shirt. A tug, a call that urged him forward, up and around until he was ghosting across a balcony, skin bathed in a purple as cool as the night. 

Waves lapped at his fingertips as Corvo traced the carvings along the Shrine, skin goose-bumping as the air fractured around him. The world dropping out from below his feet as the Void swallowed him whole, whale songs thrumming through his bones as he met the Outsider’s eyes. The Leviathan seemed faintly amused as he studied Corvo, one elegant hand gesturing to the leather grey coat. 

_ “Taking up a new line of work, Corvo? They look for you among the novices, counting heads and whispering who might be missing. I wonder how long it will take for someone to notice when Anton Sokolov goes missing. He has made a great study of my runes, but he's not special like you are. He wasn't chosen and he doesn't wear my Mark, so he can't unlock their secrets. I wonder what secrets might be uncovered on the other side of Kaldwin’s Bridge. I would watch my step if I was you. It is a very long way down.” _

Snarking off to a god was probably not the best of ideas, no matter how much Corvo wanted to snarl a ‘no shit.’ Instead, he pocketed the rune off the coat and worked on gaining access to the roofs above. Blinking across to the flagpole, Corvo peered down at what he mentally dubbed the “zappy pole.” Sure, it probably had an actual name but he had been in prison when they had been constructed- ah, an Arc Pylon. Mentally thanking the guards for that oh so interesting bit of information, Corvo blinked again up across to the supports of the bridge until he was out of sight.

The wind tore and tugged on his coat as Corvo balanced on a metal beam, body pressed firmly against another pole for balance as he peered around it. His eyes tracked the guard as they patrolled, waiting until they moved away from controls before blinking across. The gate swung open under his touch, both to his relief and displeasure. It made his job all the more easier but the lack of discipline was disturbing. The tanks of whale oil came free with quiet clanks, heavy against his arms as he carefully set them down. 

The lights whirled softly as they powered down, spilling shadows across the river like oil. The oil. Corvo cursed softly under his breath, a frown marring his brow under his mask as he realised that he couldn’t just leave the tanks here. All it would take would be a guard to walk over and fit them back in for the lights to come back to life and possibly reveal Samuel. Which meant he was going to have to get rid of one, possibly even both. 

Not really seeing any other choice, Corvo took a few careful steps back before thrusting out his hand, letting the void pour forth in a blast of wind. The tanks shot out over the water like they had been shot out of a cannon, exploding with a satisfying sound against the waves. Oh course, that would be when the guards decided to actually learn how to do their jobs.

“Hey, why did the lights go out?! Check it out.”

Footsteps pounded on the metal behind him, the cap already visible between the stairs as Corvo moved, reaching out to feel the void curl around his frame. And with a whisper, he was gone, blinking across the gap to for the beam he had seen from the corner of his eye. The beam whose distance he had misjudged. The air rushed out of his lungs all at once, in one pained gasp, as his torso collided with the metal beam, body folding almost in half by the force. Metal slipped out from under his grasp as his muscles spasms in protest, body sliding backwards into empty air. It wasn't a long drop which probably saved his life but it was a painful one. Dark eyes watered as burning lines curled along his ribs, at least bruised if not cracked by the fall. 

"What’s going on down there!”

_ Get up!  _ He had to move. He had to move  _ now _ . Arms shook as he pushed himself up before falling again, fire finding its home in his chest. He would have laughed if it weren't so pitiful, dying because he misjudged a blink. He could hear footsteps, boots padding across steel, then arms under his chest, lifting him while careful of his ribs. And then all was  _ Void.  _

It was nothing like his blink, ice across his bare skin and the taste of smoke on his tongue despite the mask. Corvo wasn’t ashamed to admit that he clutched at the arms holding him, his port in a sea of shadows. But before the panic could swallow him, there was stone under his back, hands gently lowering him down so he could look at his rescue- 

_ Whalers.  _

Whaling masks lent over him, bodies tilted in a way that could only be described as  _ concerned.  _ And somehow, Corvo knew that this was the Outsider’s fault. He was going to set the next fucking shrine he saw on fire. That’s if he survived this first. 

Corvo clenched his teeth together to keep from flinching back as the one to his left poked at his side, head cocked to the side like an overgrown blue bird. “How are your ribs? I heard that collision all the way from over here.”

Snorting, the other Whaler batted his hand away before pressing an unopened vial of Sokolov’s  Elixir into Corvo’s palm with quite instructions for him to ‘drink’.  “As if you were any better as a novice, Rinaldo. I distinctly remember you overshooting a mark once and landing in a dumpster.”

“ _ Hey!” _

Drowning out their bickering, Corvo tugged the mask up just enough to swallow down the liquid, relaxing slightly at the pain faded away from his side. He normally didn’t exactly make it a habit to accept things from assassins but elixir was hard enough to come by and he didn’t need to try and kidnap Sokolov with bruised ribs. Tugging at the straps when he finished, Corvo adjusted the mask until it was once more covering his face fully, a shield of rubber and leather. 

Eyeing the other two before deciding not to press his luck any further, Corvo pressed his palm against the wall behind, using it to help himself up to his feet. The ache had faded to a dull thud, irritating but manageable. As long as he didn’t get into any sword fights along the way, he should be fine. Now, to make his escape before the other two...

“Where do you think you’re going, novice?”

Too late. 

Turning around slowly, Corvo wilted slightly at the twin airs of disapproval before forcing himself to remember that he wasn’t actually a novice for them to train. Though the unnamed Whaler didn’t give that idea much strength, adopting a lecturing tone Corvo distinctly remembered from his time training in the Grand Serkonan Guard. “You were lucky we had orders to scout the bridge and were able to take out the guard before they saw you. This is why you aren’t allowed to train without a master nearby. I expect you to explain your situation to Misha when you return to base and report to Kent to have your ribs checked out. Do we need to escort you back?”

It was tempting. Let them transport him back to their base before taking them out, letting Corvo explore and even potentially fine  _ Daud.  _ But Sokolov was the priority here and with Corvo’s luck, he’d probably run into them again. So instead, he just shook his head slowly, waving his hand in a non committal gesture that the Whaler seemed to accept. 

“Dismissed then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when a chapter is a week later because you got distracted by writing Overseer/Whaler smut. 'Wanton Flesh' is under my works if you want to have a read :p


	4. Rats in a Cage

Corvo finished up the buttons on his jacket and coughed to alert Samuel that he was dressed. He had decided after scaring both Samuel and Emily the first time they saw him in his disguise that it was better to leave the whaler's coat and mask on Samuel's boat, and wear his Lord Protector's coat in the Hound's Pit Pub.

Sokolov snored next to him in almost agreement. The Royal Physician hadn't moved from where Corvo had dumped his unconscious body after kidnapping him from his Dunwall home. It had been nerve racking jumps across the rooftops waiting on the other side leading up to Sokolov, constantly peering over his shoulder for Whalers. Only a single officer guarded the outside to Sokolov's workshop door, and none stood inside with the physician, which almost made Corvo want to tear his hair out in frustration because that is not how you bodyguard!

The sound of the Amaranth’s motor slowing drew Corvo out of his thoughts and towards the shore where Havelock waited, hungry eyes trained on Sokolov’s unconscious form. "Ah Corvo, you've returned and with Sokolov in tow. Excellent, you never fail to impress."

Corvo lent down and slung Sokolov over one shoulder, following Havelock’s silent command to follow him. He had learnt long ago to pick his battles when it came to nobles and those in command. And if acting like the Loyalist’s dumb muscle meant Emily would be crowned safely, then he would perform gladly. Corvo’s steps slowed slightly as he took in the cage waiting in the middle of the room. He wasn’t sure how he expected the Loyalists to keep Sokolov contained but a cage sure wasn’t on the list.

“Just lay him in the cage. How did you take him out? Did you use one of Peiro’s sleeping darts?”

Corvo shook his head as he laid the Physician gently on the floor, arranging his body so he wouldn’t wake with a kink in his neck. It was the least he could do after knocking the man out. “I choked him out.”

The other man nodded in approval. “Good, good. We don’t have an hour to wait for it to wear off.”

Corvo mentally took note that the darts lasted for an hour. He didn’t plan on ever lingering long enough for someone to wake up back it was good to know. Apparently, Havelock was not a very patient man and soon had a bucket of water fetched to throw over Sokolov to wake him.

“What happened?! Who are you people?!” Ah, Sokolov. As grumpy as ever. And in desperate need of a bath. 

“Royal Physician, I believe you and Corvo know each other in former days. Unlike you, our friend Corvo knows what loyalty means.”

Corvo kept his expression flat as Sokolov turned to stare at him, water dripping from his hair and clothes. Jessamine had almost considered Anton a friend and he felt no pleasure in putting him in a cage at the formal Admiral’s mercy.

“Bah, I am loyal to my inner spirit. You are the one consorting with the most wanted man in the Empire.”

“It is my belief that Corvo was innocent in the death of the Empress, and the former Spymaster, or the Lord Regent as he calls himself, is a ruthless tyrant bent on destroying this city, the heart of the Empire.” And there was the Gristol arrogance. Sokolov and Corvo couldn’t help but share a mutual look of amused disdain as Havelock looked ready to wax poetically about Dunwall. 

But Sokolov cut that look thankfully short with a haughty sniff, peering down his nose at the Admiral. “You are mistaken if you think there’s love between me and our ‘Lord Regent.’ But whatever you intend to do here, I assure you, I am beyond petty scare tactics.”

“If I don’t scare you, Sokolov, perhaps these rats will? Even if they don’t carry the plague, I’ve heard a swarm of rats can strip a child’s body to the bones in half a minute. I’ve heard worse. 

How long do you think it will take before you talk? Before you beg to talk?”

Corvo stared at Havelock in no small amount of horror and fury. Rats?! Havelock planned on torturing Sokolov with rats until he spoke? Corvo understood the necessity of finding out what Sokolov knew, probably better than Havelock did. But this? This was too far!

“Rats? Is that the company you keep, Admiral?” Despite the mocking tone in his voice, Corvo could see the flicker of fear in Sokolov’s eyes. The Physician knew better than most what a swarm of rats could do to a man. 

“It’s the company you keep that interests us, Sokolov. We know you painted a portrait of the Lord Regent’s mistress. The very aristocrat who is funding the Military with her fortune. She is the key to the Lord Regent’s over the city and we must have her name!”

Sokolov sniffed and turned away from Havelock. “Sorry, Admiral. I cannot help you. I don’t know why you’re part of this rabble Attano, but I know you have your reasons.”

Havelock took a step towards the cage, drawing Sokolov’s attention back to him. “Yes, he does. All we need is the name of the Lord Regent’s mistress. It’s very simple.”

Sokolov drew himself up to his full high and stared down at Havelock. “I elect not to tell you. You will have to force the words from me, and I warn you my willpower is quite legendary.”

Havelock’s eyes flickered towards the crate where the rats were held and Corvo decided it was time for him to step in. “Perhaps I can find a way to convince you, Sokolov.” Corvo ignored Havelock’s questioning calls as he turned away and slipped from the room and crossed the courtyard towards the workshop where Peiro toiled away.

It was well known among the court that Sokolov was virtually addicted to a rare liquor called King Street Brandy. It had tasted revolting when Jessamine had offered him a sip, but it seemed he now had a use for the stuff. And, as luck would have it, he knew that Peiro had a bottle.

“Ah, Corvo. Hear to check on the status of your mask? I admit, I haven’t had much chance to work on it but I promise, it will be fixed by your next mission.”

“You have a bottle of King Street brandy. I need it to bribe Sokolov into talking.”

Peiro paused in his tinkering and turned to face Corvo fully. “Ah, I must admit, I’m reluctant to give it to you for Sokolov. It cost me quite a lot. It’s very expensive stuff - a blend of rare Pandyssian spices and a drop of whale oil. I would, however, be willing to sell it to you. Would you care to purchase it?”

Corvo swallowed a wince. He didn’t know the actual price but he knew the Brandy didn’t come cheap. But it was better than the alternative. “Sokolov is a potential ally. I’ll take the brandy. Just take the cost off my next haul.” At this point, he had probably pocketed enough coin to buy a small mansion. He was sure it could cover a bottle of alcohol. 

Havelock and Sokolov hadn’t moved from where he had left them though the Admiral frowned when he saw the bottle Corvo carried. “A curious strategy.”

Corvo shot a dark glare Havelock's way as he offered Sokolov the between the bars. It was better than rats.

“King Street Brandy? I didn’t know any more existed. It is an extraordinary gift. I see I’m dealing with men of taste. I can tell you this much: she was always referred to as Lady Boyle. I painted her, to be sure, but I never saw her face, or learned her first name. You see, I painted her from behind. I assure you, she still made a striking portrait. But I don’t know which Boyle she is. I was to be introduced to her at a masked ball in her honour three nights from now. But I will miss that party, it seems.”

Havelock was almost beaming by the time Sokolov finished speaking, as if he hadn’t threatened to let the man be eaten alive to get his answers. “A masked ball at the Boyle Estate? This is perfect, Corvo.”

Corvo crossed his arms with a slight frown as he recalled all he knew about the Ladies Boyle. “The Boyles are wealthy and ruthless, security will be very tight. And I don’t which of the Boyle ladies is connected to Burrows.”

Havelock waved away Corvo’s concerns with a dismissive look. “That doesn’t matter. I am sure a man such as yourself will be able to figure it out. We’re very close now. If you can do this, we’ll be able to strike at the Lord Regent himself and put Emily on the throne.”

Corvo hummed softly in agreement and excused himself, mind racing.Three nights from now would not only give his ribs time to heal but also give his mask time to be repaired. Piero promised that it would be fixed soon and it would probably be safer than walking into Boyle Mansion dressed as one of Daud’s Whalers. However, he didn’t quite trust that it wouldn’t fail again, something that would be disastrous surrounded by nobles. No, it's better to wear the Whaler outfit.

"Peiro."

"Corvo. Is there something else I can do for you?"

"I need you to find me a pair of rubber gloves, the ones they use in whaling houses." He couldn't go wandering through the party with the Outsider's Mark gleaming boldly on his hand. Even the nobles wouldn't accept that. He froze as a thought popped into his head. It would be a terrible idea, the guards might even turn him away for it. But if it worked, by the Void, it would be worth it.

"And dark red dye, enough to soak a coat in."


End file.
